Brutal (43 page)

We both moan.

We start connecting again, but I hold back. I have the discharge instructions around here somewhere, and I swear they said no intercourse for four to six weeks. Fuck, it’s only been two!

“No stopping,” she says, pulling harder.

Once my eyes refocus, I try my best look of intimidation, the one that makes other cops run away.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she threatens. “I want you inside me, now. I’ll use force, if I have to.”

She pulls me again.

“Fuck,” I say. “You’re using force now.”

“But you like it.”

“Fucking love it.”

“If I hurt, I’ll tell you,” she promises. “I know my body, Rogue. It’s screaming for this right now.”

“Spread your legs for me, Angel,” I say giving in like I always do. “I’ll make it better.”

She looks up at me, and I look down at her, and when she smiles I swear, just then, the world righted itself.

She grabs my beard and steady fucks my mouth, so I allow it.

Apparently, she likes what I have to offer, and if there’s one thing in this fucked up world I can’t do, it’s say no to her.

I slide home and we both moan. Well, she moans. I growl.

I move her over onto her side, because I don’t want to put any pressure on her head or ribs, but she maneuvers herself so she can still see me. Still be connected.

Having her back to me is a beautiful sight. Curves and hollows, the view of her ass and her wings. It’s enough to make me come right now. But I hold out. Barely. I watch myself move in and out of her. Every few strokes, I pull almost all the way out and slide back in with even more of her juices coating me. Jesus, we’re beauty and the god damned beast, and I’m one lucky beast.

“Angel,” I say gripping her hip.

“Harder,” she begs. “Please, I can take it.”

I slam into her, and I hear our skin connect. She grabs my beard and smiles at me.

“More,” she says. “All of it, all of you.”

What my angel wants, my angel gets.

I continue to slam and stroke, slam and stroke, and when I tell her to come, she tells me stop.

“What’d I do wrong?” I ask freezing up. “Did I hurt you?”

“Get on your back.”

“Wha—?”

“I’m going to ride you,” she says. “Get on your back.” Then she smiles. “Please.” And I roll over.

“Not gonna last.”

“Tell me you love me.”

“I fucking love you, Angel.”

“How do you want to come?” she asks, squeezing me.

“Hard.”

She smiles at me and asks, “Where do you want to be when you come?”

“Inside of you.”

“That’s a given.” She giggles. “What
position
do you want me in?”

“The one that had one leg behind you when you were on the swing.”

“The lira.”

“No,” I say. “The swing.”

She laughs, and it squeezes me harder. Shit. Note to self: make her laugh all the fucking time.

“Rogue,” she says, leaning down to me. “I fucking love you.”

“Angel,” I say, starting to come. “I fucking love you, too.”

I’m pretty fucking proud to say twenty minutes and a shower later, I was ready to go again. Walking out of the shower, I see she’s out cold, so I settled for curling myself around my tired mate instead. We have forever now. I’m okay with letting her sleep for an hour or so.

I’m a fucking gentleman.

W
aking up wrapped around him is better than an electric blanket. He’s so damn furry and warm. For a huge alpha male type, he’s downright fucking adorable when he sleeps; tattoos, bald head and beard included. When I try to move, because duh, he’s fucking enormous, he wraps me back up, and doesn’t let go.

I’m normally not the early bird, but for once he’s still asleep.

I found out he talks in his sleep, too.

The best is he talks about
me
.

I’m never going to be normal, but like he says, ‘fuck normal’, yeah? I do the best I can. Odds are, I’ll still flip out, I’ll still get in fights, but I’ll still have him waiting for me when I’m ready to come back.

I will still DJ in a club, Macy and I are solid, I still have shady friends, a captain for family, a detective as my mate, and his partner who wants my best friend. I’ll always walk that line between fair and foul, because that’s who I am. And I’ll kill anyone who threatens the ones I love.

I throw a pot on, and then I head for the shower and let him sleep. I’ve got an hour before the Cap shows up.

Washing my hair sucks. Staples and a bald spot are a lot harder to keep clean than you’d think, but I manage.

I remember that I’m waiting on a message, so I hurry up so I can check my phone.

Dressed in a towel, I come out to a very angry looking Rogan.

“What’s wrong?”

“Who is Dubz?” he demands.

I nearly fall over laughing. “You met him at Batch Brewing Company.”

“I met a guy named ‘
Dubz
’ at Batch Brewing Company?” he asks. “Remind me.”

“His name is Jason,” I say. “We grew up together. You met him when we sat down. He gave Rafe free beer and comped our lunch, right before shit went south. He mentioned keeping an ear open for any spots in my building.”

“And?”

“And what?” I ask sweetly, because this is too fucking hilarious. Like I don’t know he’s still checking my phone with the app tracker? Sometimes it’s just too easy.

“Fine,” he says, put out. “I’m still checking your phone, and right here is why!” he points to the text.

“I don’t see the problem,” I say with a straight face, only because when he figures it out, he’s going to feel like total shit.

“God dammit, Angel” he says, rubbing his hands over his bald head. “It says
‘I’m ready when you are’.
How the fuck am I supposed to take that?”

“Grab my phone and reply with this:
‘can you be here in 30?’
And see what he says,” I say.

“What are you talking about?” he shrieks (which is a first and hopefully a last).

“Send the message,” I say, pouting. “Please.”

“You’re killing me, Angel, and that pouting? You’re better than that,” he says. “God, but you confuse the fuck outta me. There, I sent it.”

“Let me go change,” I say, dropping the towel. “Tell me what he says.”

I walk into my closet to find some clean clothes, and I hear him mutter, ‘oh fuck’.

I’m an evil bitch for finding this funny, but he asked for it.

“Angel,” he says, coming to the closet. “You dressed yet?”

“Not yet,” I say. “Why?”

“Because,” he starts, dropping his bald head in apology. “I’m fucking sorry.”

“You read all the texts, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“You’d really want to live with me?” he asks, unsure. “In my house? With me? All the time?”

“When I was trying to wake up, you were rocking me, saying you’d give anything for me to come home with you. Did you mean it?”

“Every fucking word,” he says, stomping toward me.

“Then leasing it out to Jason is the way to go,” I say, leaning into him.

“You heard me?”

“Every fucking word,” I say, and kiss him with everything I’ve got. “You’re what I came back for.”

“I’ll make you happy.”

“You already do.”

“I’ll fucking make you happier,” he says hugging me tight.

Having a make out session in my closet is a first. We go on like this for a while with me trying to climb him and him making sure I don’t hurt myself. He finally gives in and goes for my pants when I hear a knock. So much for a closet quickie.

“Hold that thought,” I say. “The Captain is here; can you let him in while I change again?”

I grab my sweats, and a Kill Switch Engage T-shirt, and walk out to a smiling Rogan, a confused Captain, and an old friend looking like he won the fucking lottery. Heading to the kitchen, I grab my spare set, walk over to Rogue, and put my hand in his to hold it.

“Mornin’ Cap.”

“Mornin’, baby girl,” he says. “Uh, you know this bearded fella?”

“Cap,” I say. “You remember Jason Williams, yeah? He used to hang with Gary and me quite a bit. He’s an owner over at Batch Brewing Company now.”

“Ever been arrested, son?”

“Not in Detroit.”

“Then I don’t remember you, sorry.”

“No worries,” he says. “Stop in and check the place out sometime. I’ll buy you a pint, and see if I can jog your memory.”

“I’ll do that, son.”

“Alright,” I say stepping forward. “Here’s the key, give me a few days to get a mover here, and it’s all yours.”

“Mover?” asks Rafe, walking in. “Who’s moving?”

“Holy shit!” says Macy, joining the party. “You’re moving?”

“She’s moving in with me,” Rogan says proudly.

“No shit,” says Rafe.

“Wow,” says Macy. “This makes sense, I like it.” She leans in to hug me.

“I approve,” says the Captain, smiling.

“I’ll just leave now, before the pissing contest starts again,” says Jason. “I owe you one, Venessa.”

I hear him make it out into the hall, and I’m almost positive I heard him introducing himself to people.

He belongs here.

I, on the other hand, belong where ever Rogue is.

“What are you guys doing here?” I ask. “Are you here together?”

“No,” says Macy, and Rafe looks like she lit his porn collection on fire.

“I asked them to come,” says the Cap. “Let’s all have a seat.”

“What’s going on?”

“I have a deal for the four of you,” he says.

“Okay?” I look around, and see everyone is as confused as I am.

“I’m the Captain, which means I can sanction a team,” he starts. “This team will be off the books, so to speak.”

“The four of us make up this team?” I ask.

“Correct, kind of,” he says. “I realize you and Macy aren’t law enforcement, but no one needs to know that. The four of you will be a team that takes the cases we haven’t had the means to close. The cases no one will miss.”

“You mean, the cases no one wants,” says Rafe.

“Yes,” says the Cap. “But the law, as Venessa well knows, in many cases doesn’t help, but hinders. I’m giving you four the authority to use the law when needed, and bend it when necessary.”

“By any means necessary?” asks Macy.

“The women will have more ‘liberties’, we’ll call them, because they aren’t in law enforcement,” he says. “You two, of course, know the law and I expect you to use it when it’s called for.”

“And when it isn’t?” asks Rogue.

“That’s your call,” he says. “You’ll have my support and report only to me, other than that…”

“You’re giving us permission to be lawless?” I ask, getting extremely excited. Granted, I’ll still do it anyway but it’s like I just got the green light to be naughty.

“I suppose I am,” he says.

“You could lose your job,”  Rogue points out.

“I can’t lose a job no one wants, son,” he says. “Keep the streets safe, and keep this to yourselves, and no one will say shit about how you go about doing it.”

“That’s it?” asks Macy.

“You need to come up with a name,” he says.

“A name?” asks Rafe.

“A name,” says the Cap. “For your team, your group, whatever you want to call it. I expect to hear from you in the morning. We still have those missing girls to find, and they deserve justice. Gary may not have taken them, but a source tells me he was working with the group that is. That’s how Gary found you. My source also tells me they haven’t forgotten about Venessa, or Kharma, either. Macy, they also know about the drug you’re developing, so I agree with Venessa in that they want to get their hands on the drug, to use it when taking girls. This puts you in a lot of danger. Trafficking in this city must be stopped. Each of you has a skill to bring to the table. Work it out and call me in the morning.”

The Cap leaves without another word.

But the next words spoken were the last words Rafe should have said.

“Venessa, I get,” says Rafe addressing Rogue and me. “But not her.” He points at Macy.

“Why not her?” I ask, pushing the envelope. “If there’s anyone who knows what that chick is made of, it’s me. I should know, she has my vote.”

“Why not me?” she asks squinting, which is never good because she has a thing about wrinkles.

“Seriously?” he says, looking to a very silent Rogan for support. “You’re a total chick. You hand out band-aids and take piss samples. You wouldn’t last five minutes.”

Wrong. Fucking. Answer.

“Stand up,” she says, taking off her shoes and pulling up her hair.

“Knock it off,” he says. “You’ll just get hurt.” He looks at me. “Venessa, tell her.”

“I’m not saying shit,” I say. “You should stand up, though, Rafe. You don’t want her to take you to the ground.”

Another strike for Rafe is when he starts laughing.

Macy doesn’t like to be laughed at.

Ever.

It happens so fast. Macy attacks, winning an ‘oomph’ from Rafe. Rogue pulls me onto his lap to get me out of the strike zone, and Macy takes Rafe to the floor. Within seconds, all you hear is Rafe grunting, trying to get free and losing.

“Don’t you ever tell me I can’t do something again,” she says, standing up.